When Kat Helped Neal, or tried to
by the.authoress.15
Summary: Kat meets Neal, and years later, he's with FBI. Soon enough, she's involved with human traffickers on the black market, and now the FBI and our favorite Heist Society crew have to work together to get her back alive. rated T for safety
1. PART 1: St George and the Dragon

DISCLAIMER: I do not own White Collar or Heist Society

Katarina Bishop went by many names. There was Francine Watson, Jamie Kessler, Erica Sampson, and the one she used most frequently, Melanie O'Hara.

She first met Nick Halden when he stole a Raphael from a museum in New York. She'd been planning to steal it herself, but...things went a little awry.

The painting sat in one of the back rooms of the museum, waiting for Sara Ellis, an insurance investigator from Sterling Bosch, to come and get it.

She came through the window, and just as she stepped foot on the ground inside, a shadow materialized itself from the opposite wall. Two pairs of blue eyes met, widening first in surprise, and then smoothing out into a pleasant, innocent expression.

"Hello," Kat greeted the young man. He couldn't have been older than his late twenties, but that meant nothing to her. She was, after all, only thirteen herself.

"Hello," the man said. After a pause, he continued, "So what are you doing here?"

"Admiring the art. You?" She kept it pleasant, smiling to make him feel more at ease, instead of just the ease façade both had now. As soon as he became truly comfortable, she could snatch the painting and run.

"The same," he shrugged. He nodded toward the Raphael. "St. George and the Horse. A masterpiece."

"Yes, I thought so, too." Kat answered with a smile. But her expression made it very clear that he wasn't going to get the painting.

"So. What should I call you?"

"You tell me," Kat answered.

"Oh, come on," he said glibly. "I'm not dangerous."

"You could be. You're…" she motioned to him up and down, clearly talking about his amazing physique and gorgeous face.

A corner of his mouth quirked upward, and then his mouth opened wider into a dazzling smile. "I know," he said unashamedly. "But honest, I'm harmless." His eyes seemed to tighten for an instant at this, but then the expression was gone so fast that Kat wasn't sure if she'd imagined it.

"I'm Nick," he finally said when it was clear she wasn't giving in first. He put out a hand for her to shake. "Nick Halden."

Kat took his hand and shook it carefully, reassessing him. After a long pause, she said, "Melanie O'Hara."

Nick withdrew his hand and took a step back, apparently satisfied. Still sensing her unease, he said, "Don't worry – I'm not gonna turn you in to the cops."

"Hey – I'm just checking out this art piece. Who said I was a criminal?" Kat said innocently.

"I do," Nick said simply. "You're a pretty good thief, by the looks of it. Probably about ten years old, maybe younger, you do everything from pick pocketing to art theft, probably from around here, though you go out of country frequently for other jobs. You like doing hard work yourself. You're obviously one of those family thieves, though"—he glanced around—"and they're not here right now. You're on this job alone. Again."

Kat put her hands on her hips. "I'm _thirteen_," she emphasized. She hated being small. "And you don't know anything."

There was that smile again. "Three MBA's and two doctorates. And I didn't go to college."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Kat said.

He shrugged. "Okay. You've got calluses on your hands, you move like a cat, you're planning to steal this Raphael now, and you have a slight accent from…Paraguay, I'd say. What was in Paraguay?"

"Okay," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "My assessment of you: art theft, lock picking, and forgery are your best points, you mostly only use an alias once, you can talk your way into or out of anything, you're not comfortable with murder or weapons, you flirt with every girl you come in contact with, whether you have a girlfriend or not, and you're on the run. Who's after you? FBI?"

Nick cocked his head to the side. "Perceptive," he said. "Yeah – FBI has a tail on me. But I'm pretty good at losing him. His name's Peter Burke. I don't suppose you know him, do you?"

Kat didn't answer his question, saying instead, "And I suppose you've talked with him and he didn't know it was you, am I right?"

Nick flashed his smile again. "Right again. I gave him a lollipop. He had no idea."

Kat couldn't help but laugh. "That's gotta make him mad."

"It does," Nick said cheerfully. "And yesterday I sent a bottle of champagne to one of their surveillance vans."

Kat smiled and shook her head in a disbelieving sort of way at his audacity. "You're not getting this painting," she said, getting back to the subject. "It's mine. I was here first."

His smile was as charming as ever as he said, "I can't let you take this one. It's too big."

"I'm sure I can carry it," Kat rolled her eyes. "I may be small, but I'm not weak."

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. It's too popular. It'd go in the newspaper, it'd be everywhere. You could never sell it."

"I don't intend to. And I suppose _you_ want to be in the FBI's spotlight."

Nick's face softened a bit. "No. Only Kate's."

"Kate…?"

"My girlfriend." He grimaced. "Or ex-girlfriend. We used to work together, but then I was stupid and tried to con her into another job. I haven't seen her since." He motioned to the Raphael. "But hopefully, if I do enough bigger jobs, I can get her attention and find her again."

Kat's face softened as well as she realized what he was saying. "And you want to propose to her." He didn't say anything, only looked at her, pleading silently for her to understand.

She sighed. "I might regret this, and this might be just a huge load of BS, but…if it is true, then good luck."

She turned and walked away, leaving Nick Halden alone with the Raphael.


	2. The Great Escape

Kat smiled at Nick Halden as he entered the café. They had agreed to meet the day before when they had found themselves in the snake house at the zoo. They hadn't spoken a word, except Nick looking at her and saying, "Why don't we meet up tomorrow morning at the Café tomorrow morning. Eleven-ish?"

Kat had nodded, and then looked down as a toddler tripped over her feet. When she looked back up, Nick was gone.

And now, here he was, with sunglasses, a black fedora, and a dazzling smile as he walked over to her booth. He held up a white paper bag.

"Want a doughnut?" he suggested.

Kat took one with chocolate frosting and sprinkles – her favorite – and then said, "Why didn't we just meet at the doughnut shop if we're not buying anything here?"

Nick shrugged as he sat down across from her, taking off his fedora and setting it on the table. "Never be predictable – you ought to know that."

Kat smiled a little. "I do," she said. "So…what were you doing at the snake house?"

"I could ask you the same," Nick said as he took a cherry fritter out of the bag. "Normal twelve-year-olds don't usually go to a snake house alone."

"I'm thirteen," Kat corrected him. "I told you that last time. And I'm very obviously _not_ normal – I let you go with the Raphael. I got quite a huge earful from Gabs and Hale, you know, and you never _did_ get around to thanking me."

He tilted his head slightly. "W.W. Hale the Fifth," he said casually. "Has he told you his first name yet?"

Kat stared at him. "How did you know about him?"

He shrugged with a small smile. "My partner has taught me to stay in-the-know. So I also know that your name is Katarina Bishop, and you recently robbed the Henley."

"Allegedly," Kat put in, feeling a little stupid.

He smiled even wider now. "Of course," he said. "I didn't think we were talking in anything _but_ theory. By the way, you should let Gabrielle know that pumps and skinny jeans are the new fad next season."

"So about the snake house…" Kat said, reverting back to the original topic. Every con hated being outsmarted, and she didn't want to dwell on it too long.

He smirked, realizing this. "Most people exit a room fairly quickly when a poisonous snake is there. And I, of course, a certified snake handler, can take care of the problem – if the people stay out of the way, of course. And you?"

"For their next heist, Angus and Hamish wanted a ten-foot…" Kat stopped when she noticed that Nick wasn't listening anymore. He was staring intently at the reflective silver napkin holder. She realized an instant later that he was using it as a mirror to look behind him. She looked up and saw a man that had come through the doorway, maybe in his early forties and dressed in a nice-looking, if not a little old, suit. He had an ugly green-paisley tie around his neck.

"The man at the counter," she realized, "Peter Burke?"

Nick nodded, seeming a little calmer than he should've been under the circumstances. "Got any ideas on how to get out of here without him seeing me?"

"Back door?" she suggested.

He shook his head. "None. And I can't just walk out. He knows what I look like, obviously, and there's the mirror behind the counter that he'd see me."

She chewed on her lip, and then got an idea. "You owe me huge," she warned him. "First the painting, and now this."

"And what is 'this'?" Nick questioned as she stood up.

"Leave when you find an opening," she said as she turned to walk away. Then she turned and smirked back at him. "See you soon, Nick."

Then she walked out of the café, leaving him alone.

For a moment, he felt betrayed. But then he reasoned; he'd seen her all of three times, and the first time she gave up a five-billion-dollar painting for a girl. She wasn't going to risk being caught to help him – she owed him nothing. But he, on the other hand, owed her quite a bit…

But then he heard a girl's voice calling out, desperate. He glanced at the door and saw Kat stumbling in, tears streaming down her face.

"Excuse me!" she called out to Peter Burke. She had a strong Italian accent as she spoke. He turned as she walked up to him and grabbed his hand, her entire body quivering like a terrified rabbit. "You're a police officer, right?"

"No – not exactly…" Nick grinned at the discomfort in Agent Burke's voice.

But Kat only ignored him, sobbing, "A-a man…a man – he tried to…" she trailed off.

Now the agent looked a little intrigued, though still a little uncomfortable. "Tried to what?" he coached her.

"He tried to…" she motioned him to bend down, and whispered something in his ear. The way she did it, it looked like she had done this before.

And now he was in the perfect position to leave, the agent turned away from the door and the mirror. He stood up, placed his fedora on his head, and left the café.

"I don't know what he looked like, though," Kat continued after Nick had left.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, then," Peter sighed, honestly sorry. Kat realized exactly how nice this man was right then, and felt almost guilty for faking. But she really did want Nick and Kate to be happy together. She remembered that she hadn't asked him how that was going yet. Probably not well – he probably would've left the city, if not the country, by now.

Peter continued, "If you'd like, I could call someone to drive you home."

She smiled at him gratefully, wiping at her eyes. "_Grazie, signore_," she said.

He smiled back at her and took his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolling through the numbers before he found Diana Berrigan's. He looked up right before he pressed CALL, but the young girl was no longer there. He looked around, but he couldn't see her anywhere inside the café. He turned off his phone and put it in his pocket, a bit confused. She had vanished.

_What was that about? _He wondered as he ordered a sandwich and a coffee at the counter. _She wanted my help, didn't she? Why would she leave?_

He sat down at one of the booths, not knowing that it was where Neal Caffrey had been sitting not five minutes ago. He took the apple-flavored lollipop out of his pocket and stared at it for several moments.

_I'll find you, Neal Caffrey…_

**(A/N: In here, it says that Kat has already robbed the Henley, even though she's only thirteen. Sorry if anyone is bugged by that…I decided to take the liberty of adding it in there because it just fit so perfectly that I couldn't resist…J)**


	3. Caught

Kat was looking over the blueprints of the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History when Marcus entered, holding a cell phone in his hand.

"Miss," he said, "A man has asked for you."

As Kat took the phone, she wondered why Uncle Eddie would be calling, and why Marcus didn't just say that it was him.

Kat held to the phone to her ear. "Hello? Uncle Eddie?"

"I didn't know who else to call."

Kat didn't recognize the man's voice - it was a little nasally and nervous. He must've been around his late forties or early fifties.

Kat walked away from Angus and Hamish, over to the corner. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"That's not important." the man said, still sounding nervous. "I know who you are - Neal told me about you."

"I don't know a Neal."

"Neal Caffrey – you know him as Nick Halden." he sounded impatient.

Huh. Kat had always suspected that Nick Halden was just another one of his aliases, but she hadn't pushed the issue - he probably wouldn't have told her his real name, anyway, and she hadn't bothered to ask Simon to look up on him.

The man continued, "Look, that's not the point. He's in trouble, and he won't listen to me."

"What kind of trouble? And what makes you think he'll listen to _me_? I've seen him all of three times, and we hardly spoke. Ask Kate, if she loves him so much."

"That's the problem – he thinks he's _found _Kate."

"_Thinks_?"

"Look, a guy named Jimmy the Snitch said that Kate would be at a storage facility this afternoon."

"Jimmy the Snitch. And Nick – I mean Neal – found this intel reliable? I thought he was a smart guy." Kat started to wonder if she was really talking to a friend of Nick's.

"Yeah, well, when it comes to Kate, he's impulsive. But he might listen to you if you get there soon enough."

"So what's the problem, exactly, that I need to warn him about?"

"I think Neal is walking into a trap. As in Special Agent Peter Burke trap."

"Burke?" Then she sighed. "Where is it, and how much time do I have?"

"A half hour at the most," the man said, and when he gave her the address, she wanted to curse. The address was across town, and would take twenty minutes to get there in _light _traffic.

"I'll try to get there in time, but I can't guarantee anything," she said after a pause.

"Thank you," and then the man hung up.

Kat slipped the phone into her back pocket and looked at the Bagshaw brothers, who looked back at her in interest.

"I recognize that look." Hamish said with a grin. "Whatcha gonna do?"

Kat grabbed her wallet off of the table by the door. "I need to help a friend." She said, opening the door and stepping out. Just before she closed it, she called back, "If Hale or Gabrielle ask, I'll be back in an hour." Then she was gone.

WCWCWC

Kat gave the taxi driver a twenty-dollar bill and jumped out. She was at a side entrance, and around the corner she had seen a Municipal Utilities van. She knew instinctively that it was the FBI, and tried to stay out of its view as the taxi drove away.

Kat walked to the side door, and after finding it locked, used her trusty lock-picking set in her pocket to open it up. It opened soundlessly, and she quickly slipped in. When she turned, she saw a long hall with other halls branching away from the main one. She didn't know which one Neal would be in, so she started to go toward the first one. But then she stopped, hearing his voice.

"Forging Raphael. You've gotten good."

She followed the sound to another hallway as she heard another girl, presumably Kate, speak.

"I heard the real painting was stolen."

"I hoped it would get your attention."

A pause, and Kat paused along with it. Where _were_ they?

Then she heard Kate speak again. "It did."

"I missed you," Neal said, and his voice seemed to be getting louder – she was headed in the right direction. "I lied to you about a lot of things, Kate, but I never lied about loving you."

Kat came out of the hallway and looked to the left, the source of the voices. She could see Nick – or Neal – talking with someone, who was in one of the closet spaces – Kat couldn't see her, only heard her as she said, "I believe you. I love you too."

Then Neal stepped forward, and so did Kate. He took the sides of Kate's head and began kissing her, and she kissed him back. It was sweet, and Kat figured that she could wait to tell Neal – telling him now just seemed like an intrusion on their privacy.

Then they pulled back and hugged each other, and then Kate looked up at him, saying, "How did you find me?"

Neal smiled a little, saying, "Mozz heard you were fencing Mauritian penny stamps."

Kate sounded confused, and she answered, "I quit dealing in stamps."

Kat watched as the realization dawned on Neal, his smile disappearing. Kat started to walk forward just as the door in the corner of the room burst open, several men with guns coming in and pointing them at Neal. She shrank back as Kate did the same, backing against the door to the closet space while Neal put out his hands, trying to reassure her.

"It's okay," he says, and then raises his hands while the men circle around him. A dark-skinned man yells, "FBI! Hands on your head!"

Neal clasps his fingers together and puts them behind his head as Special Agent Peter Burke enters, a smile on his face as he comes to stand in front of Neal.

Neal is turned away from Kat, but she still hears the amusement in his voice as he says, "Agent Burke."

Peter is still smiling, seeming to take great pleasure as he says, "Neal Caffrey. You're under arrest."

Neal sounds subdued as he says, "I know." And then, he drops his hands from his head and the agents around him cock their guns and point them more definitely at Neal's head.

But he only puts out a hand, for Peter to shake. "Thank you," he says, and Peter looks half-confused and half-intrigued. Kat wonders what he's getting at until Neal explains, "I never would've found her without you."

Agent Burke smiles and takes his hand. "My pleasure," he says, and he really means it – in more ways than one.

And then the dark-skinned man handcuffs him. As he does so, Neal commented with amusement, "So you guys were all in that Municipal van out front. It's gotta be uncomfortable."

The dark-skinned man nods as he finishes, and says, "It doesn't smell too good either." And then he leads him away, the agents with the guns following. Neal looks back as he keeps walking, and his eyes land on Kat for a moment, before flickering to Kate. There's a bit of sadness there, but also relief that he's finally found her. Then he smiles, just a little, and turns back to follow the agents out the door.

Peter Burke stays there for a moment, and Kat sees him take a green lollipop out of his pocket. He opens it, and puts it in his mouth, and then follows the others out the door.

WCWCWC

Kat chewed her bottom lip as she sat in the taxi. Neal was going to jail now. She didn't know why she cared. She hardly knew him. But he was charming, and fun to be around. He seemed like a good guy overall, a lot like Hale, actually. It would be fun to work with him sometime.

How long would he be in jail, though? How much of his crimes could be proved?

Well, Kat determined that once he got out, she would have to visit him sometime. Maybe she _could_ work with him sometime.


	4. What the heck?

Kat was walking along the sidewalk in New York City when she saw something that jerked her to a halt. She stared ahead, not believing what she saw. Neal Caffrey, in a nice-looking suit, walking beside Special Agent Peter Burke. And Neal wasn't wearing handcuffs. He and the FBI agent were just talking, like they were friends. Neal even smiled at something Peter had said.

Kat was confused. It had only been a little more than four years since Neal had been arrested – surely he and the agent who _arrested_ him weren't _friends_.

Kat looked away and kept walking as Peter and Neal passed, and she overheard Neal saying something about a slave trafficker.

_What?_

Kat turned back and followed them just close enough to overhear their conversation, pretending to text on her phone as she did so.

"I don't know," Peter Burke was saying. "If I started poking around at the FBI, it would really muck things up."

"I could…" Neal started, but Agent Burke interrupted him.

"No, Neal. _You _start snooping around, and it will land you back at Rikers. If you could try and convince Mozzie…"

Neal sighed. "You know as well as I do that Moz isn't going to help with an FBI case."

What the…? Kat didn't know what was going on. By the way they spoke, one would think that Neal was working with the FBI. How did that work out?

"He might if you tell him that it will help kids." This comment was so quiet that Kat had to strain to hear it.

"Alright, I'll try and explain it right to him." Neal said in a sort of resigned voice. "He might…"

As Neal continued, Kat felt her danger antennae tingling. She glanced around, looking for the source of danger. Then suddenly her eyes widened, and she whirled around to Neal and Peter, jumping toward them with her hands out.

"Watch out!"


	5. Well I didn't see THAT one coming

_As Neal continued, Kat felt her danger antennae tingling. She glanced around, looking for the source of danger. Then suddenly her eyes widened, and she whirled around to Neal and Peter, jumping toward them with her hands out._

_"Watch out!"_

Kat crashed into Neal, who had just turned to see who had called out the warning and why. At the unexpected tackle, he stumbled and fell into Peter. The three of them slid three feet, just inches away from the car that had swerved onto the sidewalk, right where Neal and Peter had just been standing. The car drove off quickly and out of sight.

Other people on the sidewalk started crowding around the three of them still on the ground, checking to make sure that they were okay. In the confusion, Kat slipped away, not wanting to be recognized.

Neal stood up and helped up Peter, who brushed himself off. Neal picked up the fedora that had fallen off, and put it back on his head.

"Are you alright?" he asked Peter solicitously.

"I'm fine," Peter said. "You?"

"Just some skinned elbows, but I'm good." Neal said.

Peter looked around at the dispersing crowd with a slightly perplexed look. "Who called out?"

"I don't know," Neal said, brushing off his arms. "Probably the same person who shoved us out of the way."

"Why would she run away, though?" Peter asked in bafflement.

"Didn't want to be recognized?" Neal shrugged. "Didn't want the attention? Forget about it, Peter – she was just being a Good Samaritan."

Peter sighed. "Alright. But it _was_ lucky that she was there. Otherwise we'd have been dead."

WCWCWC

When Neal walked in to his apartment that night, he was surprised to find a petite, dark-haired girl sitting at the table, drinking a glass of brandy. She was probably about seventeen years old, though she looked younger. But he recognized her immediately.

"Katarina Bishop," he said, his face breaking into a smile.

She smiled and shrugged. "Kat is fine," she said, standing.

"It's been quite a while," Neal said, closing the door behind him.

She nodded. "Four years. How was prison for you?"

"It was pretty good," Neal said a bit dryly.

Kat chuckled and said, "So I hear you're a Fed now. How did that work out?"

Neal shrugged and pulled a wallet-looking thing out of his pocket. "Technically I'm just a consultant for Peter," he said, flipping it open and showing Kat. It had a card inside that said that he was a CI for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, New York office, with a picture of him in the bottom corner.

She pulled back as he put it in his pocket. "I'm Peter's CI for four years, 'cause I broke out of Rikers and he found me again, so instead of going back for another four years, we struck up this deal."

"So how does that work?" Kat asked, sitting back down. "Does he have guards around you or something to make sure you don't run?"

Neal lifted up his pant leg to reveal a tracking anklet, a green light glowing on the side. "I got this. I have a two-mile radius from the office. I help Peter with his cases, and pretty much if we fail or I try to run, I go back to prison for life. After four years of helping Peter, I'm free."

"Seems like a good plan, considering the alternative." Kat commented.

Neal smiled again, wryly. "You'd be the first that's not an agent to say that."

"So…" Kat said, standing up again and going over to a painting he was working on in the corner, bringing her glass with her. "Botticelli's _Primavera_."

"Yeah," he said, walking over to stand beside her. "I'm almost done with it."

"It's beautiful," Kat said, staring at the details, the perfect coloring. Then she turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you planning on stealing the real one from the Uffizi Museum?"

He smirked and shook his head. "Nope. That's a little outside my radius – by about 4, 163 miles."

Kat raised an eyebrow, and Neal explained, "I looked it up in case Peter asked why I was painting it. It's a gift for him – his birthday's coming up."

Kat had relaxed her eyebrow, but now she raised it again. "So you and the Fed are _friends_, too? Not just an agent and his consultant?"

He shrugged. "He's saved my life more than once."

Kat grinned sort of crookedly. "So I guess you have a knack for getting into life-threatening situations."

He stared at her for a moment, and then comprehension dawned on his face. "_You _were the one that shoved us out of the way of that car earlier." He realized.

She shrugged. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He sort of scoffed. "You saved mine and Peter's lives." After a moment, he said, "Well…thank you. Thank you for this time, and letting me have the Raphael, and for helping me get out of the café that day."

"Sure. No problem." Kat said, a little uncomfortable. "Just don't turn me in to the FBI, and we'll call it even."

He shrugged and went to the table, pouring another glass of brandy for himself. "Just don't kill anyone, and you're innocent, as far as I'm concerned."

WCWCWC

A while later, Kat glanced at her watch and said, "I should go now. Hale will start wondering where I am." She arose from where she had been sitting on the couch next to Neal.

Neal stood up as well, following her to the balcony. "Well, we should do it again some time."

Kat turned back to him with a secretive sort of smile. "We should," she said. "See you around, Caffrey."

Then she turned back around, climbed onto the railing, and jumped off.


	6. Highly UNsafe

Hale was pacing when Kat got back. He looked up as soon as the door opened, and stopped pacing.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "You've been gone for five hours!"

"Actually, it was four hours and thirty-seven minutes," Gabrielle called from the couch. She was reading about Renaissance Art, looking far more glamorous than someone reading that sort of literature should.

Hale ignored her comment, still looking at Kat.

Kat shrugged and went to the kitchen, looking in the fridge for a snack.

"I just went to see a friend," she said.

"And this _friend _was so great that you spent _five hours _with them." Hale said with a raised eyebrow.

"Four hours and thirty-seven minutes," Gabrielle chimed, turning the page.

Again, Hale ignored her, and Kat said, "I walked there. Really, it's not a big deal."

"To hell it is!" Hale said. "You went on a heist with him!"

"What?" Kat paused in opening her yogurt, shocked that Hale would think something so…so _ridiculous_.

"Yeah – I can tell when someone skins their elbows on a wall," Hale said, folding his arms.

Kat looked at her elbows and saw that she had torn her shirt a bit, and her elbows were bleeding slightly. She must've gotten the small injuries when she got down from Neal's balcony.

"I just…" she didn't know what to say. "It's not what you think."

Hale raised his eyebrows. "So what _is_ it, then?"

"Well, I was walking this afternoon, and I saw my friend with someone else, but then a car came swerving up to them, and I pushed them out of the way…"

Hale's anger was instantly forgotten, and he unfolded his arms. "Are you alright?" he asked her concernedly.

"I'm fine," Kat said. She continued, "Anyway, I went to the library afterwards to look up a few things about my friend – I haven't seen him in a few years, you see…"

Suddenly Hale started to become angry. "_Him_?" he practically spat. "You went to see _him _for five hours?"

"Four hours and thirty-seven minutes," Gabrielle said again.

Hale turned to her. "I don't give a…I don't care. Just stop." He was struggling to stay calm as he turned back to Kat. "Who is this guy? Why were you alone with him for so long?"

"Relax, Hale – he's like, thirty and completely harmless. I was totally safe. But I wasn't with him the _whole_ time – I was only with him for an hour or so. I spent a while at the library, see, and then I went to wait at his apartment for him to get home, so I was there for about a half hour. We just chatted, and then I came home on foot."

"Stop dodging the main point, Kat," Hale said. "_Who is he?_"

"His name is Neal," Kat finally said.

"Neal who?"

Kat sighed. "Neal Caffrey. But I promise – I'm not doing _any _jobs with him. Not now, not ever, especially now that…" she stopped, hoping that no one had caught that last part.

"Now that what?" Angus Bagshaw asked, coming in to the room. He'd apparently heard the last part of the conversation.

Kat nibbled on her thumbnail. "Nothing – I'm not going to work any heists with him. That's it."

"What are you hiding, Kat?" Hale demanded.

"What is this, anyway?" Kat demanded. "An interrogation?"

"Guys," Simon said quietly from the wingback chair. Everyone looked over at him, except Kat, who remained glaring daggers at Hale.

"Caffrey's with FBI," Simon said after a moment, looking up from his laptop and at Kat.

Hale's anger dissipated, shock replacing it as he sank into a chair at the dining room table.

"FBI," he repeated. "You're friends with a_ Fed_."

"You gonna turn _us_ in like you did your dad to Interpol?" Gabrielle snapped, closing her book and sitting up.

"He's not even _with _the FBI," Kat said. "He's a criminal consultant for another agent. It was just…it was just a deal he made with the Bureau." She explained everything about Neal, from when she gave him the painting to his capture to his tracking anklet with a two-mile radius. They all calmed down a bit when they understood her reasoning, but that still didn't explain one thing.

"So he's like a half-Fed…" Hamish mused. "But why doesn't he turn _you _in if he knows you're a crook?"

"I think his exact words about that were 'Just don't kill anyone, and you're innocent, as far as I'm concerned.' Besides, he helps with the _FBI's_ cases – he doesn't go searching for his own. So we – _all_ of us – are completely safe."

And it was true. At least, part of it. She _would_ be safe – from the FBI, at least. But someone else would soon become interested in one of them – and that would put _all _of them at risk.


	7. Discoveries

When Neal walked in to Peter's office the next day, Peter sat with a frown on his face.

"What's with the long face, Peter?" Neal said, sitting down in the chair across from him. He put his feet up on the desk, and Burke immediately shooed them off.

"Yesterday," he said, "When the car swerved onto the sidewalk - the driver hadn't lost control or been distracted. He was trying to run us over."

Neal leaned forward. "I assume you're going to tell me your reasoning behind this theory?"

"The car," Peter explained. "When we went out to lunch, that car was parked right outside the café. And then when we went to the library. When we came out, it was parked right in the front. And then when we were finally walking on the sidewalk, it swerved and tried to run us over - but they didn't count on our Good Samaritan. We never saw the car after that."

"Are you sure it's not just a crazy coincidence?" Neal asked him. "There are a lot of green Mustangs in New York."

Peter shook his head. "But not all of those Mustangs have a long key scratch on the right side of it."

Neal leaned back in the chair. "Okay. You've convinced me. Think this is related to our case?"

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingertips together. "Yes," he said.

"Which means we're on the right track," Neal said.

"But it also means that they know who we are. And whoever pushed us out of the way of that car is in danger, too, because whoever it was will think that she knows us and therefore knows about them. And since we don't know who it was, we can't even warn her."

Neal ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the already impeccably placed strands down. "Damn."

WCWCWC

Kat browsed the department store, looking at the fedoras. She grinned when she found one exactly like Neal's, except that it was cream-colored. She tried it on, giving it a rakish tilt and looking at herself in the mirror. She decided she liked the look, and went to the cash register to buy it.

When she walked out, she took her cell phone out of her pocket. Then she realized that someone was already calling her, and answered it.

"Melanie O'Hara," she said.

"Kat." Neal's voice sounded a little relieved. "Meet me at my apartment tonight at seven – I need to talk to you."

"Oh, hi, Neal. I was just about to call you. Is everything okay with the Feds?"

"Sort of. Yeah. I just have a problem I need to talk to you about – but not over the phone."

"I hope this isn't a setup, Neal." Kat said warily.

"It's not – I promise. Just be there. And…don't go down any dark alleys." With that last cryptic warning, he hung up.

Kat frowned and stuck the phone back in her pocket, and then pulled her sunglasses off of where one side was folded into the neck of her shirt. She slipped them on and kept walking.

She didn't even notice the man following along, thirty feet behind her.


	8. Kat in, or out, of the hat

Kat appeared on Neal's terrace five minutes and twenty-six seconds before seven o' clock. When she looked in to the apartment, she saw Neal talking with a short balding man with glasses. They seemed to be strategizing. About what, she wondered? Were they going to turn her in to the Feds? But the older man didn't look like a Fed – just a harmless street bum. Or a street _thief_.

Kat walked forward and tapped on the glass door, getting the attention of the two men inside. With a look almost of relief, Neal stood up as Kat opened the door herself. Closing it behind her, she said, "What's up, Neal? Who's your friend?"

"We spoke on the phone," the man said, remaining seated.

Kat instantly recognized his voice as the man who had told her about Neal right before his arrest. "Oh, right."

"You've met," Neal said as more of a statement than a question.

"Over the phone," the shorter man said. Then he fixed Kat with a look. "And you wouldn't have even been _in _this mess if you had been on time."

Kat knew what he was talking about, and felt guilty, but Neal said, "Mozzie, she's five minutes early."

"Whatever you say, Neal. By the way, Kat – that's a nice hat. Kinda reminds me of someone else I know." He gave a pointed look to Neal.

Kat grinned and tipped her hat to him in a roguish sort of way. "Thank you," she said, adopting a British accent. "I thought of him myself when I bought it."

Neal sighed and turned to Kat. "Look, you – _we_ – have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Kat asked him warily, losing the jauntiness she'd had just a moment ago. She sat in one of the chairs at the table, her legs over the side of the chair.

"You remember when you pushed me and Peter out of the way of that car yesterday?"

"No, I seem to have developed amnesia since yesterday afternoon," Kat said sarcastically.

Neal ignored this comment and continued, "Well, today Peter realized that it wasn't an accident – someone was _trying _to run us over."

"Where do _I_ come in?" Kat asked impatiently.

"This is probably related to the case we're working on involving slave trafficking, which means that we're getting close. But this also means that they know who _we _are, and now they'll know who _you _are, too."

"So…"

"They'll think that you're working with us, or that we've told you about the case. They're going to want to find you, and…"

Kat finally seemed to understand. She stared at the table for a minute, and then took a deep breath and looked up at Neal. "Okay," she said, standing. "I'll be on my guard."

"Well, I'd rather you were in FBI's protective custody, but…"

A corner of Kat's mouth turned up, half in amusement and half derisive. "Wow, Caffrey. I had no idea you could be so funny."

"That's what I said to him." The man – Mozzie – told her. "But if you ever need help, I have a few safe houses based on days of the week that you could crash in until this blows over."

Kat smiled a little. "Thanks, Mozzie, but no thanks. I think I'll be fine."

"Well, good luck." Mozzie shrugged.

"Be careful," Neal said as Kat walked out to the terrace.

Kat sort of smirked at him and tipped her hat in his direction, and then, just like the night before, she climbed onto the railing and jumped off.

WCWCWC

The man watched the teenage girl as she scaled down the side of the house, using only her hands and feet. His eyes glinted as her feet touched the ground and she glanced around for anyone who might've seen. Then she started to walk around to the front of the house. Smiling evilly, he followed along behind her, holding a gun with a silencer on the end.

Five minutes later, there was no sign that he had been there, except for two things; Kat's hat lied on the sidewalk, a dead girl lying beside it.


	9. The Kat is out of the bag

The middle-aged woman sighed as she drove down 107th street. She didn't like the nighttime job that she had, but now that it was six o' clock, she was finally done and she could go home to her six-year-old boy.

As the woman turned down another road, she saw something on the corner that made her slow the car down to a stop. She braked the car in front of a large mansion and rolled down the passenger window so that the girl lying on the sidewalk would hear her.

"Honey, are you alright?" she called. The girl didn't respond, so the woman opened her door and stepped out. She walked around the front of the car and went to the girl on the ground, who was lying on her side with her back to her. A cream-colored fedora lied beside her head, looking like it had fallen off. The girl was small with dark hair.

The woman crouched down behind her. "Sweetie?" she asked, touching her arm. It was cold, probably from the wintry air. "Do you need me to call someone?"

The girl still didn't respond, so the woman rolled her onto her back.

It was then that she saw why the girl hadn't responded. Her blue eyes were wide and staring, her skin a chalky white palour. Her mouth hung slack and the rigor mortis had already partially set in.

The woman choked for a moment, unable to tear her eyes from the blood dripping from the bullet hole in her forehead. Then she stumbled back, a piercing scream tearing through her throat and echoing down the block.

WCWCWC

When the FBI arrived seven minutes later, Peter saw Neal talking to a sobbing, middle-aged woman. He didn't completely understand the play of emotions on the young CI's face – there was sadness mixed with frustration and worry and exasperation. He ran up to him.

"And you didn't see _anyone else_?" Neal pressed.

The woman shook her head. "No! It was just...just her."

"Neal!" Peter interrupted the two of them. "_What happened_? Why is the body of a teenage girl lying in front of your house?"

"I don't know," Neal said, seeming uncharacteristically frazzled. "But Peter – Kat – we have to find her. Whoever did this, they took Kat, and – "

"Neal," Peter interrupted. "Who the hell is 'Kat'?"

"Melanie O'Hara," Neal said. "Her middle name is Katherine, so she goes by Kat. She was here – last night. I think that while she was walking back to her place, someone found her and took her, and this poor girl happened to be walking by and saw it, so whoever took Kat shot her so that he couldn't be identified."

"Who is this girl?" Peter asked, nodding his head to the girl the forensics team was examining.

Neal shrugged. "Just someone random, I guess. We'll know soon enough."

"How do you know this 'Kat'?" Peter asked him after a minute of watching the girl's body being wheeled away.

"She's helped me out a few times in tight situations." Neal said evasively.

Peter sighed, understanding that Neal wasn't going to reveal any more about her. "Well, we'll need to get on it as soon as possible."

"I think whoever took her is involved with these slave traffickers," Neal said after another moment, a bit uncomfortably.

Peter glanced at him. "Yeah? How so?"

"Well…she was the girl that pushed us out of the way of that car that tried to run us over. And you said yourself that she was in danger. I just didn't think that they would figure out who she was so fast and act so quickly on it."

Peter rubbed a hand over his face. "Dammit, Neal." He sighed.

"I know – I should've told you sooner, but…she doesn't trust Feds. She wanted to keep her identity a secret."

"So she's a mini-Mozzie," Peter sighed again, this time in exasperation. Neal didn't respond.

"Well, let's get to it – run some files, look for clues…" Peter trailed off, and then said, "These are slave traffickers, so if they didn't kill her, there's only one thing that they could have in mind for her now."

Neal shook his head, as though saying, _Could this get any worse?_

He didn't know it then, but it could. And it did.


	10. The K Question

Kat blearily opened her eyes, then quickly shut them again. Her pulse pounded in her ears, making her head ache with each thump. She squeezed her eyes tighter, but when she realized that that only worsened her migraine, she stopped. She strained her ears, but she couldn't hear a sound. She realized that she was duct-taped to a hard chair in a dark room. Her mouth was free, but it was so dry and sandy that she couldn't have screamed if she'd tried.

But some instinct told her not to try. Neal had said that the people who might come after her were involved in slave trafficking. These _must _be those people – who else would Tase her on a dark night and take her against her will? It was plain kidnapping, no way around it.

Kat idly remembered that there was a girl a few years before who had been found after having been captive for eighteen years. Would she be there that long?

_No_, Kat thought fiercely, the suddenness of her thoughts bringing on a new wave of pain. But she ignored it. _I _will _get out of here, _she thought. _Whether it's because someone finds me or I break out of here, I _will _be free soon._

WCWCWC

Neal impatiently tapped his pen against the web in between his thumb and index finger. He was in the conference room with Peter, Diana, Jones, and a few random other agents.

"We don't know what Kat looks like," Peter said, shooting Neal a look. "But we do have a description – short, dark hair, blue eyes. That's pretty much it, though."

"But I could sketch her for you," Neal suddenly realized, sitting up and grabbing a notepad from the agent sitting next to him. He flipped to a clean page as he said, "Give me five minutes."

He sketched as Peter continued, "Okay, good. She was taken at about..." he waited for Neal to answer.

"Seven o' clock," Neal answered promptly as he drew in Kat's eyebrow.

"Right. Which means that she's been gone for thirteen hours now."

"So Kat could be anywhere, really." Jones said with raised eyebrows.

"She _could_," Peter said. "But I don't think she is. I think she's still in New York City."

"Why do you say that?" Jones asked him.

"Because whoever took her is most likely in the slave trafficking business." Neal said, drawing the line around Kat's lips. "They saw her save me and Peter from the car that tried to run us over, so they probably think that she's with us. They're going to want information from her on how much she knows before they sell her."

Peter nodded. "Right. And they still want me and Neal out of the way, too."

"Done," Neal said, tearing the sketch of Kat out of the notebook and giving it to Peter. "That's Kat, right before she was taken."

Peter pinned the drawing to the corkboard beside him. In the drawing, Kat was on Neal's terrace, about to climb onto the railing. She was wearing the cream-colored fedora in the picture, and she was smirking.

"Is she about to jump off of your terrace?" Diana suddenly asked Neal.

Neal nodded. "She climbs down the side with her hands and feet."

"So she's a mini-Caffrey." Diana surmised.

"More like a mini-Mozzie," Peter sighed. "She doesn't trust the FBI. I doubt Neal has even told us her real name." He turned to glare at Neal.

Neal put up his hands as though warding off attackers. "Hey, it was the name she gave me." He didn't add that he'd figured out her real name not long after.

Just then a probie stuck her head in, saying, "Sorry to interrupt, but there's someone in the lobby that wants you, Caffrey. He said it was important, but for you to come alone."

"Thanks," Neal said, and the girl left. He glanced at Peter. "Think it's legit?"

Peter shrugged. "Even if it's not, you're in FBI headquarters – you'll be safe enough."

So Neal stood up and walked out of the office, going down the elevator and stepping off in the lobby. He glanced around and saw only one boy waiting for him. He looked young, maybe only seventeen or eighteen with light brown hair and lightly tanned skin. He appeared non-threatening, so Neal went over to him.

"Neal Caffrey?" the boy asked him, giving him the once-over.

Neal put on a smile, ignoring the scrutinizing glare that he was getting. "Yep. That's me. You wanted to see me?"

The boy didn't smile as he said, "My name is W. W. Hale the Fifth."

"Ah – Kat's partner-in-crime," Neal realized.

W. W. Hale the Fifth looked at him a long moment before asking the million-dollar question – "Where is Kat?"


	11. WW Hale the Fifth

Peter looked up when Neal came back to his office ten minutes later, a young man following behind him.

"I'm only here to help Kat, and then I'm gone," the man said simply, standing in the doorway. "I and my crew will help in ways that you can't, but then you have to leave us alone."

"Excuse me?" Peter asked, surprised.

"I'm saying you'll grant us immunity, and we'll take down these traffickers and find Kat as well. You'll never hear from us again."

"He wouldn't come up until I agreed to that." Neal said with a shrug.

"And...remind me again why I need a teenager's help?"

"Immunity first," the boy said firmly. He kind of reminded him of Neal, in a way, as he met his gaze head-on without flinching.

"Alright," Peter said, and the boy relaxed a little.

"I have five other people in my crew - they're all skilled in a lot of things. Simon's good with computers - tech stuff. The Bagshaw brothers, Angus and Hamish, can make explosives, cause distractions, that sort of thing. Nick has connections, and Gabrielle - well, she has her own way of doing things."

"And you?" Peter said. "Where do you fall?"

He smirked a little. "I've got connections, too - transportation and things like that."

"And this...'Kat'? I assume she's in your crew as well?"

His smile softened a little. "Yes," he said. "She's the one that brought us all together as a team. She's the glue of our heist society, and now? Now we need to get her back."

WCWCWC

"Heist society," Peter mused. "That has a ring to it. You're a con?"

"White collar," he said with a smile. "Ironic, huh?"

"So you could access places that I as an agent can't and Neal with an anklet can't." Peter said, warming to the idea.

"Yes, there's that," the boy said with a shrug. "And some other things."

"Nothing illegal," Peter said firmly.

He smirked a little. "Yeah. Okay, Burke." the way he said it made it clear that he would be doing nothing of the sort.

"You named off all of your crew," Peter said, "But I have yet to learn your name."

"My name is W. W. Hale the Fifth." then he smirked. "But you can call me Hale."

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but I didn't really know how to prolong the dialogue before Hale officially introduced himself, and that's when I wanted the chapter to close. It will be longer next time, I promise!**


	12. High Profit

When Kat awoke several hours later, she had no idea what time it was. It was still pitch black, and there were no windows in the room, as far as she could tell. She couldn't see a door either – she didn't even know the dimensions of the room.

Kat, being a thief, had been in a lot of closed-in spaces, but had never felt claustrophobic. Now though, this was different. She couldn't _see _how big the room was, and she couldn't move, thanks to the duct tape. She knew without trying that she could hardly speak – her mouth was so dry.

She felt claustrophobia coming out for the first time in her life. It was an odd feeling. She felt like she was choking, she couldn't breathe, her tongue swelling too large in her mouth. She could feel the panic rising steadily inside of her, and begun to squirm in her chair, a desperate and vain attempt to become free. But it was useless, and she could only feel her skin being rubbed raw underneath the layers upon layers of tape. Stars filled her vision as she stopped breathing and started to pass out.

But just when Kat thought she might lose it, a door in front of her opened. Blinding light filled her vision as she heard the heavy door creaking on its hinges. She squinted and saw the form of two men standing in the doorway, about six feet away from her. She begun to breathe easier as she saw the room, about fifteen by twenty feet in size.

The men walked toward her without a word, and one pulled out a knife. Kat shrank away, but the man only began to saw through the tape binding her to the chair.

A minute later, she was made to stand up. Her limbs felt weak, but she forced herself to remain standing. The other man took out a roll of duct tape and bound her wrists in front of her, and then told her to walk.

She walked, the two men keeping a firm grip on both her arms in case she fell or tried to escape. But Kat didn't try. She knew it would only mean trouble if she did.

_How could I have been so stupid? _She thought as the men led her down the hall. _Neal warned me not even five minutes before I was kidnapped about these people. I should've been on high alert then._

Then a thought struck her. _What are they going to do with me? Are they going to leave Neal and Peter alone, now that I'm captured?_

Something inside her told her that the answer was "no".

WCWCWC

They entered another room a couple of minutes later, and as the door closed, the men holding her let go of her.

"This is the one, boss," one of the men said to the man standing with his back facing them. "We got 'er, just like you said."

"Wonderful," the man said as he turned around. Kat was startled to see that the man looked completely normal, just someone you'd regularly see on the streets. Then she corrected herself – why should she be startled? That's how so many criminals got away with doing what they did – they looked normal so no one would ever think they were bad. Even she and her crew depended on looking like normal teenagers to get away with what they did.

"And she is in perfect health?" the man inquired.

"Perfect enough," the other man said. "She hasn't had anything to eat since she got here, but when we found her, she was climbing down the side of Neal Caffrey's mansion with only her hands and feet."

The leader looked at Kat with a look of appreciation. "Well, well, well! That will be wonderful, then! She'll fetch a higher profit. She can't be more than fifteen years old. The younger ones are always better – they last longer."

The other two men nodded, obviously already knowing this. The leader stepped forward and touched her hair, then her cheek. Kat didn't flinch, not wanting to show any weakness.

"Hm," he said. "Dark hair, blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and a stubborn attitude. This one may take a little bit of work to tame."

Kat felt oddly like a horse being evaluated at an auction as the man stepped back and sized her up.

"Well, I'm sure she'll come around," he said, still looking her over. "If not, I'm sure someone will still take her. She's worth much…" he trailed off thoughtfully. Then he said, "Leave her down there for another day or so with no food or water. Maybe that'll work a bit." He turned back around, a dismissal for them to leave.

Kat could feel dread in the pit of her stomach as she thought about being in that dark, claustrophobic room for another day. She almost begged the man to let her stay in the light, but that would only give him what he wanted. And he obviously wanted to sell her on the black market. Well, she would be stubborn as long as she could if that would keep her from being sold. She _had_ to stay wherever she was – otherwise she might never be found.

The men took her by the arms again, and Kat noticed that the man to her right seemed a bit more excited than before. She didn't have to wonder why.

But the leader seemed to sense this as well, and said, "Ramón, if she gets pregnant, I will take every dollar I lose from the profit she should bring me otherwise in a pound of your flesh – is that clear?"

The man deflated a little and mumbled, "Yes, sir."

Great. So she would bring a higher profit if she was a virgin. Kat didn't know if she was supposed to feel grateful or not, so she just followed the two men back down the long hallway to her dark prison.

WCWCWC

Hale entered Eddie's brownstone that night with a determined look on his face.

"What's up, Hale?" Angus asked from the dining room table. "You find Kat?"

"We're helping Neal Caffrey and the FBI find her."

Gabrielle shot up from the couch, whirling to face him. "_What?!_" she screeched at him. "Need I remind you that we're _cons_? And now we're helping the _Feds_?!"

"They've granted us immunity," Hale insisted. "If we help them take down a slave trafficking business, they'll let us free, unless we rob another place. Then we're held accountable for _that_, but nothing before now."

"Where, exactly, does Kat fit into this equation?" Simon asked nervously, fearing that he already knew the answer.

"The slave trafficking business that we're helping take down - they're the ones that kidnapped her last night." Hale explained.

Gabrielle, Angus, Hamish, and Simon froze at these words.

"What?" Hamish breathed.

Hale sighed. "Let me explain it again." And he proceeded to tell everything that had happened since he stepped into FBI headquarters.

When he was finished, Gabrielle pulled one of her many cell phones out of her bra. "We'd better call Nick."


	13. The Scrap That Broke the Camel's Back

Nick Bennet flashed his forged FBI badge at the cop in front of him, and he was immediately let through the yellow tape in front of Neal's mansion. He walked over to where only a couple of FBI agents stood, looking at the area of the crime scene.

"Got anything yet on the missing girl?" Nick asked them when he came over.

An older man glanced at him, seeming to wonder if he was an agent or not, before saying, "Not much. We found some hairs in the hat that we're running for DNA at the lab that should be ready by tomorrow to identify the girl, get some pictures besides what Caffrey's drawn."

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "Hm," he mused. "And I assume you've tried the security cams outside June's house, correct?"

"Correct," the man said. "The man who took her wore a mask and all black – we can't get an ID on him. He knew what he was doing, for sure."

"Hm," he said again. "Anything else? A clue to where he might've taken her?"

The other agent shook his head. "None. He was good."

So Nick left him there, pretending to go back to his car, but instead he took a circuitous route to the side of the house where the terrace from Neal's apartment was. He climbed up the side of the house, not using the mortar in between the bricks as Kat did, but using the window frames as a ladder up to the top.

Nick agilely swung onto the terrace and glanced around to see if he'd been noticed. Once satisfied, he pulled on some latex gloves and went to the glass door that led to Neal's apartment. He opened it easily – it wasn't locked.

Then again, a normal thief wouldn't be stopped by a locked door, so what would be the point?

Nick walked in, leaving the door open behind him, and glanced around appreciatively. _He cut a pretty sweet deal with the Feds, that's for sure. _

No one was inside, and after listening, he couldn't hear anyone downstairs, either. So he went to the table and ran his finger along the tabletop – it came off clean. He sifted looked through a few FBI case folders – obviously Neal's – and then a few scraps of paper Neal had been writing his notes on.

_Maybe there's something here, some clue… _Nick thought as he sat down in one of the chairs beside the table. He picked up a piece of paper bearing Neal's handwriting.

_6:55 – Kat comes up to the terrace_

_7:00 (ish – maybe a couple of minutes before) – Kat leaves_

_A minute or so to climb up, a few seconds to go to the front of the house…kidnapped around 7:01. _

_Car: Chevrolet S-10 Blazer, Firestone tires, first four numbers on license plate=B276, too blurry to see last three/Car reported stolen, so no lead there to who's running this/car not found yet_

_None of Kat's blood down there – only the other girl's, now identified as Lulu Jasking…don't want to hurt her? Hair found in Kat's hat – but no one has her DNA, so she'll be unidentifiable/that'll raise flags at FBI (tell Peter her name? what does it help if her name is unknown? What does it help if it IS known?)_

Nick chewed on his lip as he set the paper down and picked up another. It was a perfect sketch of Kat as she sat in the very place where Nick was now sitting. It looked almost like a black-and-white photograph. He picked up another paper, startled to see the names of him and his crew.

_Simon-tech_

_Angus & Hamish-explosives_

_Gabrielle-distractions_

_Nick-connections to Feds (Mom is Interpol)_

_Hale-transportation & money_

_Kat-brought them together (cat burglar skills)_

Nick furrowed his brow. Why had Hale told Neal this? Would Neal share this information with the Feds?

Nick briefly thought of tossing it out, but then he realized that Neal would notice and he'd tell Peter ASAP, and tell him the information anyway.

So he dropped the paper back on the table, standing up and going to the terrace. He closed the door and climbed back down the side of the house to the ground.

Then he stopped, something on the ground a few feet away catching his eye. He stepped forward and retrieved the torn-out scrap of notebook paper from where it lied half-submerged in the soil. He brushed off the dirt and read the words scrawled across the scrap.

_-arious interesting pers-_

_-r auction at Cathedral of _

_-pe in New York, just we-_

_- am Bay Park. Come w-_

_-ctations to get a ne-_

_-nd whatever else y- _

_-ant with it!_

_The guy that kidnapped Kat must've dropped this, _Nick thought as he pulled a small Ziploc baggie out of his back pocket and put the paper in. he felt his excitement level mounting as he took off his latex gloves and slipped them into his pocket along with the baggie. _Hale is going to want to know about this new development. Maybe the paper has fingerprints on it that we can identify with the man who took Kat. _He glanced at his watch, and sighed. _It's the only lead so far, at any rate. Let's just hope it will be the thing that can get this thing rolling, and we can find Kat and bring her back safely._


	14. Manipulation

"Ramon Sullivan," Simon said late that afternoon. "He's served time for aggravated assault and kidnapping, suspected of rape, but it was never proven. Seems like a dangerous guy."

He handed the papers to Nick, who looked them over, seeing that Simon was right (not that he'd ever thought otherwise). It said that he was thirty-six years old, and was 6'3". He had a cleft in his chin and a scar on his forehead, right by his hairline. He was Puerto Rican, though he was born in the U.S., and he looked imposing. He scowled in his mug shot, his dark eyes practically on fire.

Nick shivered, sorry that Kat had been very obviously taken by this guy. He wondered if he really _had _raped someone before…would he do it to Kat? He hoped not.

Then he remembered something that his mom had told him a little while ago, that people who run a human trafficking business don't tend to do stuff like that – they didn't want them pregnant to decrease the money they would get from them if they weren't. He couldn't remember why his mother had told him that or even how the topic came up, but he was grateful that that knowledge manifested itself in his head when it did.

Just then Hale walked in. He saw the papers in Nick's hand and asked, "Did you find something on Kat?"

Nick handed him the papers. "We found the kidnapper. I was just about to take it down to the FBI office."

"Great," Hale said, giving the papers back to him and exiting the door he had just entered. "I'll come with you."

WCWCWC

"And how did you figure this out?" Peter asked Nick twenty minutes later, eyeing the two teenagers in front of him with a look almost of distrust.

Nick pulled the scrap of paper, replaced in its bag, out of his back pocket. "This," he answered. "I found it by June's house, a few feet from where Kat would've stood after coming down from the terrace. It _has _to be from the guy!"

Peter took the bag, trying hard not to look impressed. Neal, standing by the door, hid a smile when he noticed how he failed.

But before Peter could say anything, Diana Berrigan came into the office.

"Boss," she said, "The results came back for the DNA from the strands of hair in the hat. It doesn't match up with anyone – it's as though this 'Melanie O'Hara' doesn't even exist."

Peter turned to fix Neal with his glare. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

Neal shrugged. "Hey, maybe she's never left DNA anywhere. She _is_ a pretty good con artist."

"We would have record of her somewhere and you know it," Peter said, still glaring. "Doctor's records, dental records – anything!" **(A/N: I'm actually not totally sure how the whole DNA thing works, so let's pretend that it works this way, so that my story works.)**

Neal shrugged again. "It was the name she gave me."

"Yes, but what did _you_ find out her name was?" Peter demanded.

Neal glanced at Hale and Nick, who sat silently in the chairs across from Peter. Hale only raised his eyebrows slightly at him, as though to say, _It's your move._

"Does it _really_ matter?" Neal asked, turning back to the agent. "She's missing, we need to find her. And then we let her go. So why bother finding out her name if it doesn't help you any? If she runs another con afterwards, I'll let you know her real name so that you can arrest her, but otherwise, I don't see the point."

"We need a clear picture of her," Peter said. "While your drawings are pretty good, we still need an actual photograph."

"I've got one," Hale said suddenly, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and said, "I got a picture with her a couple of months ago – she hasn't changed much since then." He opened the wallet and took out a photograph of him standing next to a petite, dark-haired girl with blue eyes and a happy smile. They were both smiling, completely content and unaware of what would soon happen to Kat.

Peter studied the picture and then said, "Alright, I'll let this slide for now since you got me the picture. But I'll need this copied before I can get it back to you."

Hale nodded in understanding. "That's fine. I just want to find Kat."

WCWCWC

Kat felt dizzy as she sat in her dark prison. She wasn't duct-taped this time, so she could feel around the room, but she hadn't had food or water for several hours, and she could feel the effects now. She'd never been the anorexic type – she didn't even need it – but if she had _ever _considered not eating before, this experience now convinced her that she would never skip a single meal that was handed to her.

Kat tried to count the days in her head of how long she had been there. She was taken at seven o' clock, Tased…was it four times? Five? She was knocked out for probably a half hour for each one, which would make it at least two hours after she was kidnapped. Then she had gone to sleep, woken up, gone to sleep again, met her…owner…and then come back and gone to sleep a few more times. She didn't know how many days that could've been – two? Three?

Kat sighed and sank to the ground, too exhausted to even stand anymore. When would her friends find her? Or Neal? Even the FBI would be a welcome sight right now. She buried her face in her hands and cried.

WCWCWC

Kat awoke a while later to the door to her prison opening, light streaming in. She squinted as the two men from before came in and got her. She stumbled as she rose, and they practically had to carry her back to the room where The Boss was, as Kat had dubbed him.

When she got there, he ushered her to sit down on the couch by the wall. She sank down into it, wondering where this newfound treatment came from.

Kat watched as The Boss took a glass of water from the table and sipped it. He noticed her watching him and grinned.

"Do you want some?" he asked her, holding it out in her direction. Kat started to reach for it, but then he pulled it back. "Nah-ah-ah. One thing first. There are buyers very interested in what you have to offer. If you behave and be a good little girl, you can have this water. I'll even throw in a meal."

Kat's hope dissipated in a flash when she realized he was only manipulating her. She paused, weighing her options, and then made her decision. She sat up, croaking, "Go to hell."

He still smiled, though now his eyes hardened. "Hm," he said, "Still very bullheaded, I see." he waved to the men who had taken her in. "Another day," he ordered them.

Kat was brought to her feet, and she closed her eyes at the wave of nausea that overcame her as she moved. She felt bile in her throat, but pushed it back down. It wouldn't do any good to go puking up her guts - she would only get hungrier, if possible.

As she walked out, though, she heard The Boss muttering to himself. "I've got until tomorrow night. She has to be ready by then, or Jay'll kill me for my debt."

She felt a surge of hope when she heard that. There was a deadline - tomorrow night. If she could just last until after the auction...she would be fine for a while, at least.

_I have to last at least until then, _Kat determined. _I can do that, right?_

She wasn't sure, but she would sure as hell try.


	15. UNWELCOME Really Describes Him

When Neal woke up the next morning, Saturday, he didn't get up, only lying back in his bed, staring at the ceiling as he thought about the case.

_So...is the scrap of paper that Nick found a clue? What's it supposed to say? Why was it dropped? It could be a ploy…but…what if it's not?_

Neal reached over to his bedside stand and looked at the copy that had been b=made of the paper that Nick had found.

_-arious interesting pers-_

_-r auction at Cathedral of _

_-pe in New York, just we-_

_- am Bay Park. Come w-_

_-ctations to get a ne-_

_-nd whatever else y- _

_-ant with it!_

_Let's see…"various interesting persons for auction at Cathedral of"…what? What ends in "-pe" that could be the name of a church?_

A moment later, the words seemed to make sense in his mind, and he read through the whole message:

_Various interesting persons_

_For auction at Cathedral of _

_Hope in New York, just west _

_of Pelham Bay Park. Come with_

_expectations to get a new (partner? Slave?)_

_and whatever else you_

_want with it!_

Neal sucked in a breath. This was it – he was sure of it! He had to call Peter – Pelham Bay Park was almost 17 miles outside his radius. They would have Kat in an hour, tops.

Neal wasn't even thinking about the fact that it was Saturday as he got out of bed and picked up his cell phone, scrolling through until he found Peter's number.

Peter picked up on the second ring, sounding very awake. "Neal – what's up? Got anything?"

"Are you at the office?"

"Yeah. I've been trying to figure this out since five. Why?"

"I figured out where Kat is, but it's outside my radius." Neal said quickly.

"Where?" Peter demanded.

"I'll meet you at the office – twenty minutes. I'll explain then."

"Okay, Neal. I sure hope you're right about this, though. I'll see you soon."

"Bye," Neal said, and hung up the phone.

He took a shower in four minutes, got dressed in two, combed his hair in another two, and was soon outside the house, hailing down a taxi. He was glad that the crime scene tape was gone from the front of the house, though a few agents still stood there, surveilling the house in case someone decided to come back for Neal.

"26 Federal Plaza," Neal requested as he closed the taxi door.

The taxi driver turned to look at Neal, smirking. When Neal saw the driver, he tried to open the door and escape, but it locked, and Neal was trapped.

"Hey, Neal," Matthew Keller said smugly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"


	16. Submission

It had been half an hour, and Peter was worried. He tapped his foot on the ground in his office, and then stood up and begun pacing. After another minute, he picked up his phone and called Neal.

WCWCWC

Neal pressed his arm against his side, hoping that Keller wouldn't hear the telltale buzzing that was his phone vibrating. But Keller heard it anyway, and said as he drove, "Toss the phone out the window, Caffrey."

Neal sighed and took the phone out of his pocket, but unbeknownst to Keller, he pressed TALK as he pulled it out, turning the volume to silent so that Peter's voice couldn't be heard.

"Really, Keller, why are you doing this? Slave trafficking? It's not really you." he asked, not really to get an answer, but for Peter to hear.

"Just stop asking questions and toss it out the window, Caffrey."

So Neal did, hoping to God that Peter had heard.

WCWCWC

Peter hung up the phone after he heard static – Neal's phone had broken. His eyes were bright with anger as he thought of Matthew Keller – the man who had kidnapped him, his wife, almost killed Neal more than once…

He quickly called Diana. "Diana, I know it's Saturday, but I need you to come down to the office."

Twenty minutes later, several agents were gathered in the office, Peter standing on the raised platform, looking down at the agents at the desks and chairs.

"He said it was outside his radius," Peter said. "But that's really it on where he went. Somehow his anklet is being manipulated to show that he's still at his house, but it's a definite that he's in a taxi with Matthew Keller. I need traffic cams, security footage, anything that can tell me where Keller was going. We're working 24/7 until we get Neal back from Keller. Alright, let's move, people! We've got work to do!"

WCWCWC

Neal was shoved into the room roughly, and he stumbled on the stairs in front of the door. The door closed behind him, and he was plunged into darkness.

"Neal?" a weak voice called.

"Kat?" Neal said, following the sound of her voice. "Where are you?"

"Over here," she said, sounding hoarse.

Neal quickly found her hands in the darkness. They were freezing. He started to rub them in between his own hands, saying, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Kat said, sounding unconvincing. "How long have I been here?"

"You were kidnapped Wednesday night. It's about seven-thirty in the morning on Saturday. Have you gotten out of here at all?"

"I went down the hall and met The Boss," Kat said in a faint whisper, "But there're no windows, so I never know the time of day."

"Have you had anything to eat since you got here?"

"No," Kat said. "The Boss said he wanted to 'tame' me – I was too stubborn for my own good. He wants me to be submissive so that I'll fetch a higher price, so that means no food, and no water." Neal could clearly hear the disgust in her voice. Then she sighed. "I just have to last until after tonight, when the auction is. Then I'm good for a while."

Neal couldn't help but admire her stubborn attitude, even in her predicament. "Do you want some gum?" he offered.

"Please," Kat said. Neal took out a pack of Juicy Fruit from his pocket and gave it to her, saying, "I only have eight pieces left, but it should help for a while."

"Thank you," she said, her voice sounding less scratchy as saliva flowed to her mouth in response to the fruity gum.

"Have they…you know…" Neal didn't know how to continue, but Kat understood.

"No," she said. "He doesn't want me pregnant. If I'm a virgin, my price is higher." The disgust was back in her voice. She paused. "Why are _you _here? What's he going to do with you?"

"I don't want to think about that," Neal said, "And I don't want _you_ to, either."

WCWCWC

Keller himself came in to their prison hours later. By the luminous hands on Neal's watch, he saw that it was six o' clock at night. He knew exactly what was coming when two men followed behind him.

"Really, Keller?" he said as though bored. "The theatrics are a little…well…theatrical."

Keller smirked. "It works every time, Caffrey, and you know it. And that's why you're trying to stall what will inevitably come."

"It's not fair, Keller. She's just a kid."

"I never claimed to be a fair man, Caffrey." Keller said, stopping in front of him. Neal stood so that he didn't have to look up, and stood protectively in front of Kat. Meanwhile, Kat sat there, looking back and forth from Neal to Keller.

"Let me be sold, then," Neal said. "I'm strong enough and good-looking enough for some gaywad out there tonight."

Keller chuckled. "Very protective of her, I see. But she'll get more money in the end. I'd reckon she'll give me about three or four million more than you."

Neal didn't know what to do to persuade Keller otherwise. He was still trying to come up with a solution when Keller signaled, and the two men grabbed him by both arms.

"Don't agree, Kat," he said, right before one of the guys punched his stomach – hard. Neal tried to double over, but the men held him upright.

"This is gonna continue, darling," Keller said, walking behind Kat and forcing her head to turn and watch Neal. "Unless you agree to be a good little girl tonight and do what you're told."

"Don't, Kat," Neal puffed, and the other guy clocked him in the nose. Kat heard a crack, and blood starting flowing from Neal's nose.

"You don't want your friend hurt more, do ya?" Keller sneered.

"No," Kat whispered, closing her eyes. It wasn't an answer to his question so much as a refusal to answer, to succumb.

Kat heard something crack, maybe a rib, and Neal's muffled cry as he tried not to make this harder for Kat.

"Come on, darling," Keller said in a cajoling sort of voice. "I know a lot of people who would be interested in the goods you have to offer."

Kat shivered as Keller continued, "And you don't really want to see Neal hurt more, do you?"

Kat involuntarily opened her eyes at this last comment, and was horrified to see one of the men pull a knife out of his pocket and start to cut away Neal's sleeve.

Neal saw the change on Kat's face, the submission coming, and choked, "I'm fine, Kat – don't –"

But Kat had already made her decision. As the man's knife began to draw blood on Neal's forearm, she cried out, "Wait!"

Keller smiled.


	17. Sold to the Highest Bidder

Now that Kat had a full stomach and had washed up, she felt better physically. But emotionally, she was a mess. She didn't berate herself for agreeing; she berated herself for agreeing without insisting that Neal be let go first. For all she knew, he might be sold right after her. Or worse – Keller might kill him now that he had no use for him.

Kat had on a full face of make-up, and it felt heavy - not because it was caked on or anything, but she knew what it meant. She didn't have much make-up on, only some gold eyeshadow, a thin line of black eyeliner at the edges of her lids, lots of mascara, some blush, and dark pink lip gloss. But it was enough. Her face felt grimy and dirty.

She was wearing a skimpy outfit - if you could call it that. It was really just a black bikini top with a micro-miniskirt, so short it should be illegal. She also had some inch-high black sandals with dark beads on the straps. Her hair was curled into ringlets, as there was really nothing else that could be done with her short hair.

As Kat waited before the auction, she watched the other people that would also be auctioned. Some were young girls, perhaps only eleven or twelve years old. They looked terrified. There were young boys, too, and some older men. The oldest person Kat saw must've been barely thirty, the youngest, probably nine.

Kat took in a deep breath as people began going out, one by one, to be bought to the highest bidder. She wondered what was happening to Neal right now. Was he alright? He and Keller obviously knew each other, but it wasn't on a friend basis. Would Keller still...

Kat was interrupted in her train of thought by the approach of Keller.

"Your turn, sweetheart," he said as he led her to the makeshift stage. "Just remember I've still got Caffrey, and I'm sure you'll do great."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Kat muttered sarcastically. Keller ignored her comment as he guided her to the stage.

As people bid on her, Kat was shocked at how high her price soared by the minute. It appeared that Keller was right about one thing - being a virgin, her price was much higher, people were much more willing to pay for her than she might've been. She could barely keep the disgust off of her face as the price went up, up, up.

Finally, though, after several minutes of bidding, the price stopped climbing. She had been bought for $100,000,000 by a man in his mid-thirties with a receding hairline. She swallowed the rising bile in her throat as she walked down to stand beside the man.

Kat could feel tears well up in her eyes as Keller closed the auction, and quickly tried to swallow them back.

_I'll get through this, _she determined. _And then, I'll be free._


	18. Memory Status: Gone

Neal gasped for breath as the men continued their job. He should've known that after the auction, which Keller had forced him to watch, Keller wouldn't be done with him. He had, after all, tried to kill him more than once. Now, he was just finishing the job.

Neal cringed at the red and black spots dancing across his vision in response to the blow dealt to his head. His head lolled, and he felt dizzy as the black spots got larger.

_No, no, no, _he thought frantically, realizing that he was about to black out. He blinked fiercely, but it was no use as his eyes drooped and fluttered, and finally, remained closed.

_3 DAYS LATER_

Neal opened his eyes, feeling very disoriented. He sat up, and held a hand to his head. It felt like a troll was tinkling its little hammer around in his skull. His ears rang like a dog whistle. He wasn't completely sure _why_ he felt how he did, but he knew something wasn't right.

_What happened to me? _Neal wondered as he looked around his bedroom. He was on his bed, and…why were there cuts all over his arms? Why was his suit torn up? The last thing he remembered was…he had been talking to Kat on the phone. He'd told her to come to his apartment at seven o' clock. But after that…it was just a black void.

Well, one thing he knew, looking at the clock. It was one-thirty in the morning, but he had to see Peter. Maybe Peter could explain this to him.

Without another thought, Neal got up and walked out the front door of the mansion, not even bothering to change or wash up. He was a little scatter-brained at the moment, and didn't think about it. He started walking, not bothering with a taxi. No one stared at him or showed any particular interest in him as he went down the sidewalk – it _was_ New York City, after all, and no one gave a damn what another person was doing as they went about their own business.

Neal reached Peter's house about twenty minutes later, as he had to keep stopping to catch his breath. His sides were bothering him quite a bit.

Neal walked up to Peter's front door and rang the doorbell.

WCWCWC

When Peter awoke to the sound of the doorbell at almost two o' clock in the morning, he wasn't a little annoyed. Grumbling to himself, he rolled out of bed and trudged downstairs barefoot. He hadn't had a lot of sleep lately, worrying about Neal, and he had finally gotten to sleep a little after midnight that night, and had been in a deep slumber when the doorbell awakened him.

Peter didn't bother to look out the window to see who it was at the door, he only opened it up, intending to tell off whoever had roused him.

But when he saw the visitor at the door, the words died in his throat. "Neal!" he choked, not even noticing the dishelved state his friend was in.

Neal smiled a little, tiredly. "Hey, Peter."

Without even thinking about it, Peter stepped forward and gave Neal a bear hug.

Neal gasped at the sharp pain in his side and said, "Uh, Peter…I'm not in the best condition."

Peter immediately pulled back, realizing for the first time how bruised, cut up, and broken his friend was. "Neal! What happened?"

Neal sighed, and cringed slightly at the stabbing it sent to his lungs. "I don't know. I don't remember."


	19. Battered But Not Broken

Peter watched Neal as Neal sipped at the espresso in front of him. He seemed normal enough, but…there was a bit of blankness in his eyes. He understood that – that's how a lot of people described people they'd seen who had amnesia. But still, it was a little odd to see it himself, in person.

Elizabeth fluttered around the kitchen, trying to find something to do for Neal, and finally settled on making him a sandwich. She was so happy to see that Neal was back, and she wasn't trying to hide her joy. Even as she prepared the meal for him, she watched him out of the corner of her eye the entire time.

Peter had already explained to Neal everything that had happened so far, and he could tell that Neal now worried about his memory being gone. If he was free, but his memory was gone, what had happened to Kat, while she was still a captive? He had been told about Keller, and he kept subconsciously clenching his hands into fists. What would he do to her?

But, the most strange, he kept thinking that he heard Keller speaking, in his head. Not directly _to _him, but more like it was memories of a conversation. But he couldn't make out any particular words – just the jumbled speaking, his laugh…

Neal shivered, and sipped on his espresso again. "So what do we do now? Where do we go from here?"

"First, you're going to eat," El said, coming over and setting the plate with the sandwich on it in front of him. "I can't have you running around starving like a reluctant anorexic."

Neal smiled a little and picked up the sandwich, taking a bite. "Okay, and – " Suddenly he stopped, his face paling. He bolted up and shot over to the sink as bile rose in his throat. As he vomited, he clutched one hand to the sink to steady himself and the other to his rib cage in a vain effort to stop the pain in his chest.

Finally, after a minute or so of his heaving, his insides were empty. Still keeping a hand to his chest, he stayed at the sink, bent over and breathing heavily through his nose.

Peter and El glanced at each other worriedly and went over to stand beside him. El placed her hand on his shoulder. "Neal?" she said softly. "Are you alright?"

"'m fine," Neal mumbled after a moment, and straightened up, giving them both what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Just…haven't had a lot of food for a while. I guess my body isn't ready for it yet."

"I'll get you something easier to eat, then," El said with a smile. Neal could still see the worry on her expression, but she didn't say anything as she went to the fridge.

"Neal?" Peter said a little worriedly. Neal's holding of his chest hadn't escaped his notice, and he wanted to make sure his partner was okay. "Are you sure that you're – "

He broke off when Neal suddenly sucked in a breath, clearly a breath of pain. He hadn't noticed anything that had triggered the pain, but when Neal instinctively brought a hand up to his side, it clearly showed what hurt.

Without a word, Peter yanked up the fabric of Neal's shirt above his stomach, and saw the shocking display of bruises there. They seemed to be particularly dark around one side of his rib cage.

Behind him, El gasped in shock, also seeing the bruises, but Peter ignored that for the moment. "Neal, at least two of your ribs look cracked, maybe broken."

Neal shook his head. "Only cracked," he muttered. "I'm fine – I'll have Moz help me wrap it later."

"Neal," Peter started, but he didn't know what to say to this vulnerable Neal Caffrey. Finally he said, "We'll find Keller, Neal. We will."

Neal shook his head. "I'm more concerned with finding Kat than I am Keller."

Peter smiled a little at that. It was so like Neal, to be more concerned about someone else than he was his own battered self. So he said, "Her, too, Neal. We'll find them both."


	20. An Update on Kat

Kat sat on a plush couch, trying to remain calm. She had been at the man's mansion for two days now, making it three days since the night of when she had been sold. The first day, the man had taken her to his private jet and the jet had taken off to who knows where. She didn't know exactly where she was – all she knew was that it was somewhere in the Midwest. She had been drugged with something to keep her until she got to his mansion, and then had woken up in a private room, completely and utterly alone. But then she had looked out the window and seen the guards down below. They had guns.

She had tried to get out of the room, but every time she touched the doorknob, she heard a zapping sound and felt the shock go through her body as it gave her a mild electrocution. She had tried to get out the window, but it was locked from the outside and she could see that it was bulletproof. The ceiling offered no escape either; it was just solid wood, with no seams. And she didn't have any tools to drill through the wall, only having her skimpy outfit she'd received prior to the auction.

So, after realizing that there was no way to freedom, she had taken a shower, washing off all of the grimy make-up and the almost-flat curls in her hair. She had then explored the room, finding a pair of booty shorts and a tank top to dress herself with. There was nothing in the closet or the dresser that covered any more than that, even though it was the end of November.

A little while after that, the man who had bought her had entered the room and noted her change in appearance. The lack of make-up revealed just how young she really was. When he'd bid for her, he'd thought that maybe she was nineteen or twenty. Now she looked maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. He didn't care.

She had stared at him coldly, rebelliously, as he sat down on the bed next to her. She stood up and walked to the chair in the corner of the room, sitting down. He had looked at her in amusement, but didn't say anything about it. Even so, she could see the callous, uncaring look in his eyes as he introduced himself as Hector. Kat didn't say a word as he told her the basic rules of being there – don't call anyone, don't try to break out, don't fight him, do what he says, do what his guards say, and don't develop any relationships with the other people he'd bought. Basically, she was to be a recluse in the room, occasionally going downstairs to help with chores and things. If she disobeyed any of the rules, the consequences would be…painful.

Kat didn't even acknowledge that she'd heard him, so Hector left, saying that food would be up for her shortly.

And now, two days later, she sat still as a stone, staring at nothing in particular. Her expression was blank, emotionless, but inside her brain the gears were whirring.

How was she going to get out of here? There were no weapons at her disposal, and the day before, one of the slave boys had been shot in the shoulder when he tried to climb over the wall surrounding the vast property. He was still trying to recover in the basement, one of the other slaves, a nine-year-old girl, trying to help him.

Kat didn't need a bullet wound, but she _did_ need to get out of there. She tapped her foot against the ground impatiently as she tried to think. Then, the idea came to her. She would need time for it to work, but…she had all the time in the world. And if her idea worked, she would have access to enough vodka to do the trick.

Just then Hector came into the room, and Kat knew by the expression on his face that she would have to come up with a new plan.

A couple of minutes later, Hector was unconscious on the floor with a red mark on his temple. And Kat knew that he wasn't going to try anything with anyone any time soon.

But he would try again. She just had to get herself out of there before then.


	21. Loyalty Goes Far

"The Cathedral of Hope!"

Neal was in the office the next day, looking good as new, all clean, bandaged up, and wearing a fresh suit. The only thing different about him from most days was the lost look in his eyes. But now his eyes were bright with anticipation and excitement as he burst into Peter's office.

Peter looked up from a file in his hand, looking at Neal blankly. "What?"

Neal waved the paper in his hand. "The Cathedral of Hope – that's where the auction was! And it's outside my radius – I'm sure that's what the ad said – the Cathedral of Hope! We have to go there!"

"You're sure?" Peter asked, wondering about Neal's current mental state.

"Yes – I'm sure, Peter!"

Peter stood up. "Then let's get a team ready and go."

WCWCWC

Neal was more than a little disappointed to find that Kat wasn't there. Peter had told him to stay outside while the agents went in wearing bulletproof vests and guns drawn.

They came up empty. No one had been there.

When Peter told him the news, he was disheartened to see Neal's face fall in disappointment. His heart went out to the young con – he had been so sure, so eager to find Kat and bring her out of Keller's hands.

Neal pulled away from Peter and went to the doors, going inside and dodging the agents who tried to stop him. He went down some back stairs and down a hallway, not completely sure where he was going. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they guided him to a door at the end of the hallway. No one was down here, he knew, but still…he had to go in.

Neal pushed the door open and stepped inside, leaving the light off. The only light provided in the room was coming from the hallway. He took another step in, going down the stairs in front of the door and going to the center of the room.

_"If I'm a virgin, my price is higher." Kat paused. "Why are you here? What's he going to do with you?"_

_"I don't want to think about that," Neal said, "And I don't want __**you**__ to, either."_

Neal stumbled at the memory that entered his head, but quickly regained his balance. He looked around, a bit disoriented as Peter came in.

"Neal – what's wrong?"

Neal turned away from the agent and looked toward the right side of the room. "That's where Kat was," he said quietly. "And…" he walked forward and knelt in front of a brownish spot on the ground.

_"Don't agree, Kat," he said, right before one of the guys punched his stomach – hard. Neal tried to double over, but the men held him upright._

_"This is gonna continue, darling," he heard Keller say. "Unless you agree to be a good little girl tonight and do what you're told."_

_"Don't, Kat," Neal puffed, and the other guy clocked him in the nose. He winced as the crack sounded, a bit too loudly, as the cartilage in his nose broke. Blood started flowing, and he found it difficult to breathe._

_"You don't want your friend hurt more, do ya?" Keller sneered._

_"No," he heard Kat whisper. He knew that it wasn't an answer to his question so much as a refusal to answer, to give in._

_One of the guys punched him again, and Neal tried to muffle his cry, trying not to make this harder for Kat as he felt something crack and pain shot through his chest. As though from a distance, he heard Keller trying to urge her to hurry up, that he had a lot of people interested in her. He shivered, sickened, and as Keller continued persuading her, one of the men took his arm. He could hear the fabric tearing on his jacket and opened his eyes to see one of the men cutting it away._

_He quickly looked up at Kat, hoping that her stubbornness remained there. But he saw her falter, and knew he had to stop it, choking, "I'm fine, Kat – don't –"_

_But Kat had already made her decision. He could hardly feel the knife cutting into his forearm, wet warmth dribbling out. Horrified, he could do nothing as she called out, "Wait!"_

_Neal closed his eyes as the men let him go. And he knew, even without seeing, that Keller was smiling._

"Neal? Are you alright?"

Neal was brought back to the present at the sound of Peter's voice. Not looking up, he said quietly, "This is where she gave up. They were…he was…" he swallowed and continued, "They were using me as leverage to get her to comply with them. The more compliant she was, the more she would be worth. I was the only way she would break."

"What, exactly, is your connection to her?" Peter asked him. "What did you do that she would be so loyal to you that she would let herself be sold like a horse at a fair?"

Neal winced a little, though Peter's words hadn't been intended to be harsh, though that was the way it had come across. Then he answered, saying, "I don't really know. We just sort of hit it off when…when we both planned to steal the Raphael at the same time."

"But _you_ ended up with it – not her," Peter said with confusion.

Neal sighed and stood up. "Yeah. I told her about Kate; I guess she took sympathy on the whole problem, and she let me take it."

"Hm," Peter said thoughtfully, and Neal continued.

"Then, a couple of weeks later, I saw her at a snake house."

"What were you doing there?" Peter asked curiously.

Neal avoided the question, saying instead, "We met up at a café the next day. Then you walked in, and she helped me to get out of there without your realizing it."

Peter suddenly remembered that day. "That girl," he said. "The one that came in to the café crying – that's Kat?"

Neal nodded. "Yeah. She looks younger than she actually is, though. She's a pretty good actress."

Peter nodded, remembering. The girl had looked so frantic – he had really believed that she was scared, when really it was just to distract him long enough to get Neal out of there. He couldn't believe that Neal had been so close to him, sneaking out right under his nose. But that didn't matter now.

"Go on," he urged.

"Well, that's really it, except for when she pushed us away from the car." Neal said, rising. "I never did anything for her, but I guess she's really…loyal, I guess you'd say. We sort of hit it off the first time we met, and now…she gave her freedom up so that I wouldn't be hurt."

"She sounds a lot like you," Peter said after a moment. "A die-hard romantic."

Neal looked at him, and shrugged. "Yeah. I guess she is. She wanted…" he faltered a bit, and then said in a stronger voice, "She wanted me and Kate to be happy together from the beginning. But, now that she knows that Kate is…gone…she really didn't have any reason to let me go now."

Peter shrugged. "You have a way of making people instantly loyal to you. Look at Sara – she's come pretty far with you. Is it really so shocking that Kat would be loyal to you, too?"

Neal sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I like her – she's one of the few _good _cons in the world, and she has a sense of humor. She's like…like a kid sister."

Peter nodded sympathetically. "We'll get her back, Neal. We will."


	22. Breaking Free: The First Try

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since she had been sold to Hector. He hadn't bought anyone else since then, wanting to…she wasn't sure how to put it. He wanted to _conquer _her first, before he got anyone else.

_Well, _she thought as she floated in his pool one day. She glanced over at the guard a little ways off. _If he keeps that goal in mind, he won't **ever **buy anyone else._

Smiling, Kat swam under the water, and went over to the wide pipe near the bottom. She had unscrewed the grate the day before, and it was still loose now. She pulled it off, and then swam to the surface for air, the same thing she had done every day for the past week. It was like a routine, something the guards had come to expect. At first, when she had gone down, the guards had gone in after her, but after doing the same thing several times, they ignored her habit.

And that was just what she needed now – their ignorance.

She took in the deepest breath she could and swam back under. She would only have a minute, tops, before the guard got suspicious. She swam into the pipe, just wide enough for her to swim into, and began swimming. After it few seconds, it got dark, and she had to make her way around by touch. She went as fast as she could, knowing that she only had two and a half minutes of air before she would start to lose consciousness.

Two minutes after she had gone underwater, she saw a light ahead. She swam faster, starting to become dizzy. She made it out of the pipe and to a man-made lake. She looked up. It was far to the surface. She quickly started swimming upward.

Just as she thought she was going to pass out, her head broke the surface, and she gasped in a lungful of pure, sweet air. She started swimming toward the shore, seeing the walls around Hector's mansion in the distance. She had to get out of there – fast.

Ten minutes later, Kat pulled herself into a car, quickly hot-wiring it and pushing it into drive.

She sighed with relief. She had made it. She was free. For now.

WCWCWC

The beat-up orange-red truck came to a stop fourteen hours later, having arrived at its destination. Kat stumbled out of the truck, feeling disoriented as she looked up at the church cathedral. In a sort of daze, she walked in through the front door, not even noticing or caring about the caution tape in the front. The church was silent as she walked to the stairs in the back, going down to the basement area. She walked down the hallway and opened the door at the end.

Suddenly a cell phone was in her hand. She wasn't sure where it came from or why she had it, but her fingers were dialing in a number as though of their own free will. She finished dialing and held the phone to her ear.

"Neal Caffrey," the voice barked, sounding strained.

Neal Caffrey? Why had she called him? She was a thief. He was a thief. They were on opposite teams. They wanted the same things, but only one could have it. How did she even know his number?

"Who is this?" Neal demanded.

Her lips seemed to move of their own free will. "I'm at the auction house." She said. Then she remembered; Neal _was _on her side. He was probably looking for her. "I'm at the auction house," she repeated. "I'm sorry it took so long. I almost didn't…the water…I thought the pipe wouldn't be so long, but…"

"Kat?" Neal asked, his voice sounding lifted. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay there. Peter!" he called away from the phone. Then he talked to her again. "Kat, stay on the line until we get there."

"I'm sorry, Neal."

"Kat, what in the world are you sorry for?" Neal sounded perplexed.

"I was supposed to tell you. Mozzie called me and told me to stop you – that it was a trap. I waited, because…Kate and you – you guys were having a moment. But I was too late to tell you before Peter came and arrested you."

"Kat, that was years ago," Neal said. "It's okay, really."

"I don't know where Hector is. He might come. I got a car, but he has a car, too. It goes faster." Kat's thoughts were scattered as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I had to hot-wire it." She sighed. "Neal, I'm tired. I'm just going to lie down for a minute…"

"Kat, whatever you do, _don't go to sleep. _We'll be there soon."

"But I'm just so tired…"

"Kat, _don't you dare…_"

But Kat didn't hear anything else he said as she sank into oblivion.

"Kat? _Kat!_"

Then another person picked up the phone from where Kat had dropped it on the ground. He held the phone to his ear, speaking in smug tones.

"It seems our little Katarina is a little preoccupied at the moment. What a naughty little girl – running away from her keeper. That's okay, though – I could probably find someone else she'll like better."

"Keller, you lay one finger on her, and I'll – "

"You'll do what, Neal?" Keller interrupted. "By the time you get here, my little Kat and I will be long gone. Frankly, Neal, you should be grateful."

"Grateful for _what_, exactly?" Neal spat.

"That you're not dead. You should be. Jim and Kelley were supposed to have dealt with you three days ago. It seems they weren't too thorough in breaking every bone in your body and leaving you to die."

"Keller, you bastard – "

Keller interrupted him yet again. "Good-bye Neal." Then he hung up.


	23. Found, But At What Price?

**So...I'm so happy! I can finally be on the computer! And as a thank you to all of you who have been patient, I'll add more than one chapter to this one...enjoy!**

Kat breathed in heavily as she struggled not to panic. She had been captured. Again. She had been sold like a horse at a fair. Again. How could she have zoned out like she had? She knew she had been hungry and dehydrated and more than a little tired, but she should have been more alert. Now, she sat in the back of a stranger's car, fully hydrated, fed, and having slept, albeit fitfully.

A tear slipped down her cheek in frustration and despair as the car slowed to a stop in front of a cabin. _She _didn't even know where she was - just that she was in some forest in New York. The FBI wouldn't know either – how would she be found now?

WCWCWC

"She's gone. Again." Neal forcefully combed his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He paced about Peter's suddenly tiny office.

"We'll find her, Neal." Peter tried to assure him. "I promise, we _will_."

"You keep saying that, but I don't see us making any progress!" Neal almost yelled. A few agents in the bullpen looked up at them, and Neal closed the door, a bit more forcefully than he had intended. He looked at Peter, hopelessness and despair clear in his eyes.

"What will we do, Peter?" he said desperately. "There weren't any clues at the cathedral - you know that. The last contact we had with her, she was completely out of it."

Peter shook his head. "I don't know, Neal - I really don't. But if Kat is as good as you and Hale keep saying that she is, she'll make contact when she can."

Hale, who had been silent through this exchange, now pulled his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed. He answered it and said:

"Simon, you get anything?" he nodded after a moment. "Yes. No - do _not _let Gabs - I don't _care _what she'll do - she needs backup or she'll be about as helpful as _Kat _is right now! No - keep her there until I come. Twenty minutes - that's it. No - you know what? Tell her that if she leaves before I get there, I won't get her the Porsche she's been wanting for Christmas...yeah?" he slapped a palm to his forehead. "No! They would _not _be suitable backup! ...That might work. Yes, get them started on it, but _do not let them leave_, or I'll be kicking _your _ass, too. Yes - thank you. I'll be there soon." he hung up and stood, addressing Neal and Peter.

"Simon may have found something," he announced. "He tracked the cell Kat used for a while until it stopped transmitting at a cabin down by the river."

Neal stood up. "I'm ready to go now," he announced.

Hale nodded. "The Bagshaws are working on a few things - we should be ready to go down there in the next twenty minutes - half an hour, tops."

Neal nodded. "Let's get some guys together and go storm the place."

A corner of Hale's mouth twitched upward in amusement. "'Blast the place to hell' is more what we had in mind, but storm the place is as good a plan as any. Let's go."

WCWCWC

Cold. Coldness seeped into Kat's bones, chilling her to the core. She had stopped shivering a while ago, her body too weak to even fight against the chill. She could no longer fight, or even breathe, as it got darker and darker. She looked up, her vision blurry. The last bit of light was fading out. She just wanted to go to sleep, just for a little bit, even though her mind screamed, now weakly, at her, that she couldn't. Sleeping would be wrong, but that was okay. She was a con. Cons sometimes did the wrong thing...

Finally, it was black.

WCWCWC

They arrived at the cabin twenty minutes after the call had been made to Hale's phone. Twenty FBI guys in bulletproof vests poured out of four SUVs, surrounding the cabin and pointing it with guns.

"FBI - we have you surrounded!" one of the men called through a megaphone. "Come out with your hands up!"

The cabin was silent, the only sound the wind blowing through the trees.

Then, there was a shout from behind the cabin, in the direction of the river. It sounded like a young man, with a slight German accent. Neal and Hale turned their eyes to see Hamish Bagshaw come running up the hill from the river, waving at them frantically.

"We need help!" Hamish cried. "No one's in the cabin - but - Kat - _come quick_!"

They went running after the Hamish as he ran back down the hill. Neal and Hale followed, and then came to a stop at the top of the hill, looking down at the scene below them in stunned horror.

Angus Bagshaw sat at the edge of the freezing river, completely soaked through. Kat lied in front of him, blue, apparently with cold. Angus was performing CPR, trying to expell water from her chest. After a moment, he bent down and plugged his nose, sealing his lips on hers, and tried to force air into her lungs. Nearby, Gabrielle was also soaked and shivering, though she didn't seem to notice as she stared at Angus working over Kat.

The breath in Hale's lungs cut off abruptly, and he choked in horror before he booked it down the hill, running full-tilt at Kat's peaceful form. He hardly registered someone calling for an ambulance, eyes focused only on his partner and best friend.

Neal watched as the young man so obviously in love with Kat rushed to her side, and then only watched as Angus tried to revive the girl. After a moment, he started down the hill after him.

WCWCWC

"It's not working!" Hamish cried. "_Why _isn't it working?"

Hale shook his head slowly and then dropped to his knees beside Kat, rubbing his hands back and forth across her arms to try and get the blood flowing. It seemed to be working a little...

But something was wrong. Something felt wrong to him, and as his hands passed over her wrist, he realized what it was.

She had no pulse.

Hale froze for a fraction of a second, and then pushed Angus aside and started working over her.

_Please, Kat, _he thought desperately as several EMTs arrived on the scene. He paused and dropped his ear to her chest, over her heart.

There was a stutter...and then her heart stopped.


	24. Always

Kat's chest felt tight, heavy. She felt like someone was pressing her down into the ground...or...whatever it was that she was lying on. She slowly, gradually realized that she was cold. Her bones felt frozen through, made of solid ice. She felt numb, everything silent around her, a distant void.

Was this what death felt like? Cold, heavy, dark, _alone_?

Why was she alone? Where were her friends, her family? Who _was _her family? She couldn't bring any face to mind, could hardly think at all. Her brain was just a blank slate. An echo filled her ears, like she was underwater.

Then, suddenly, she heard a muffled shout. The voice sounded familiar, a slight German accent to it...but no face was brought to mind to match the voice.

_"She has no pulse!"_

Who was the boy talking about? Why was he so frantic? Was someone hurt? She started to remember something - a man. He was threatening her. No, he was threatening to hurt her friend - a handsome man with bright blue eyes full of mischief.

But then the walls of her memory slammed down again, and her chest felt even tighter. She could feel a pull on her skin, something tugging at her as her world became still darker. She let it pull her, and suddenly, everything was bright. Her eyes opened, and she saw Hale kneeling on the ground, looking alarmed and frantic. She stepped forward, even as something else seemed to pull her back. She resisted, and stepped forward to touch Hale's shoulder.

Then, abruptly, she stopped, suddenly realizing what was happening. Her prone, blue figure lied on the cold, icy ground beside the river, eyes closed. Hale was trying to revive her, blowing air into her lungs as some EMTs came over with water bottles of hot water. Gabrielle, Simon, and the Bagshaws all watched on with sadness.

Kat blinked, and looked at Hale as he whispered to her. Even from a few feet away, it sounded like he was whispering right into her ear.

_"Don't go, Kat," _he whispered with conviction. _"I haven't been able to tell you how much I love you. This is __**not **__a farewell - you have to fight, Kat, you hopeless little fool."_

WCWCWC

Hale felt warm breath on his face, and looked up at Kat, the source of the warm breath. Hope shone in his eyes.

"Kat," he whispered.

WCWCWC

Kat's eyes felt heavy. She couldn't open them, or move a single limb, but she could _feel_. She felt as the EMTs pressed the hot water bottles against her skin, and wrapped a blanket around her. And she could feel Hale's warm hand, refusing to let go as she was picked up and put onto a gurney, and then lifted again to be put into the ambulance.

She heard as the doors closed, and the EMTs called out medical instructions and such. But she tuned that out as Hale started speaking to her, just a few simple words that meant the world to her.

"I love you, Kat," he said. She could hear the tears in his voice. "Stay with me."

Kat had to speak. She had to give him _something _for all of his hope and faith. She struggled for the energy to say something, just one word. She opened her mouth, just a little, but no sound came out. She began to be frustrated, and found herself receiving strength from that feeling. So finally, summoning her frustration from the deepest pit of her heart, she had just enough strength to utter a single word, _"Always."_


	25. Still Free

Hale watched Kat as she slept, holding her hand. Though still a little blue, color was slowly returning to her skin as the IV dripped its steady stream of warm fluid into her veins. She looked so peaceful, like she was simply sleeping and nothing more.

The heart monitor beeped its steady rhythm, and although Hale had been hearing it for several hours now, he still listened to every heartbeat like it was a gift from heaven. Which, if he thought about it, it was. It had been a miracle that Kat had held on as long as she had. If Gabrielle, Simon, and the Bagshaws hadn't shown up when they did, if they had been only five minutes longer, they would've been preparing for a funeral then instead of sitting in the waiting room. Hale shivered at the thought.

No one knew why Kat had been tied up and thrown into the river to drown, but Hale wanted to strangle whoever did. He silently thanked Kat for her stubbornness - that stubbornness had kept her alive.

There was a slight pressure on Hale's fingertips, and he focused his eyes on Kat's face, who still had her eyes closed. He leaned closer, holding Kat's hand to his chest.

"Kat?" he said softly, using his other hand to brush some hair away from her face. "Can you hear me?"

The only response Hale got from her was a small squeeze of her hand again.

"Are you okay, Kat?" Hale asked. "Can you open your eyes?"

She squeezed his hand again, and he could've imagined it, but he thought he saw Kat's lips tilt upward ever so slightly into a smile.

"It's okay, honey," he said, patting her hand. "I understand. I won't ask you to say anything. Just...I was worried about you. We all were."

He saw a slight expression of annoyance cross over her features, but then it softened and she pulled her lips into a smile. She opened her mouth, just slightly, apparently trying to speak. After another moment, her features slackened, her mouth closed, and Hale knew that she had fallen asleep again. He smiled and patted her hand again. She would be okay.

WCWCWC

Neal walked in to Kat's room a few minutes later.

"Has she woken up yet?" he asked concernedly, going over to the bed.

Hale nodded, expression peaceful. "She did, a few minutes ago. Then she fell back asleep."

Neal nodded with a relieved sigh and pulled up a chair, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"That's good," he said with a small smile. "I'm glad she's so..." he searched his brain for the right word, "...headstrong."

Hale nodded without a word, and for a few minutes, they sat in awkward silence. Then they both spoke at the same time.

"So how - "

"Aren't you - "

They both smiled a little, and Neal motioned Hale to continue.

"So how did the two of you meet?" Hale asked him.

Neal smiled a little and said, "We both showed up to steal the same painting. She let _me_ keep it."

"Why?" Hale was curious.

Neal sighed. "I was trying to get my girlfriend's attention. Or…ex-girlfriend, anyway. Kat was sympathetic."

Hale smiled. "That sounds just like her. But how did you...you know. How did you end up being friends; that she would give herself up for you?"

Neal shrugged and then sighed. "I don't know, but sometimes I just wish she hated me. Then she wouldn't be here right now."

Hale's expression was suddenly angry. "Don't you _dare _try and blame this on yourself, Neal." he said with such ferocity that Neal was surprised. He continued, "This _isn't _your fault. Even if Kat hadn't known you before she was captured, she still would've sacrificed herself to let you go free, and you already know that."

Neal sighed. "I suppose I do. But still...I think about it."

Hale sighed, the steam from before released in a sudden whoosh. "Yeah. I guess that can't be helped. We should really just focus on being grateful that Kat's made it."

"Yeah," Neal said softly, looking over at Kat's peaceful expression. "I know _I'm _grateful. But Keller is still out there, and now he has a few grudges –against me, Kat, your crew, Peter…who _knows_ what he'll do now?"

END OF PART ONE

TBC...


	26. okay

So, yes, it HAS been forever since I've updated, but I have reason. I'm at a terrible block and so I need your help, guys. Should I just wrap up the story now? Should I edit the last few chapters so that it's wrapping up? Are you guys ready for it to be done? Or should I continue and make it longer? How should I go on with the story - what should happen? I REALLY need your guys' advice, 'cause otherwise I'll just leave it unfinished - not because I'm giving up, but because I don't know HOW to move on.

So...could y'all help me with that?

Thanks,

T.A.15


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